The men made rounds of hellos.
Dragar speared Minna with a questioning look that she only answered with a slight tilt of her head and a faint smile that promised they could talk about her leaving later.
“Before we begin,” Ashrael said after Dragar and Christian had been offered water and food. “I want to be sure Christian's loyalty is where it needs to be.”
Evelyn glanced at Rhett's brother—along with everyone else. He appeared vaguely wary of it all, perhaps awed. In a way that suggested he was trying to come to terms with the reality of where he found himself, and who he found himself with. He stepped forward at the challenge to clear his name.
“I did plan with the agents to take the sisters. Not kill them, but to deliver them to a bigger organization of elite individuals whose sole goal is to find—this—so that they may achieve immortal status by eating from the Tree of Life. That was their hope.” He swept his hand wide to encompass the Garden as this. “They kidnapped my son and threatened his life if I didn't cooperate. I thought I could deliver the girls and then lead my brethren back later, after I reacquired my son, to get them back.”
The plan had backfired.
Rhett frowned and pinned Christian with a hard look. “Son? You have no son.”
“I do. I wasn't made aware of his existence until well after he was born. The mother and I were not involved any longer so I was waiting for the right time to bring him forward. They discovered him and used him against me.”
“You should have said something.” Rhett was still frowning.
“What would you have me say, Rhett? I wasn't going to marry the girl and to bring the boy forward puts his life in jeopardy because he is not afforded the same protections our other family members get.” Christian returned a hard look to his brother.
Everyone, including Dragar, glanced between the men. Ashrael listened attentively to the exchange.
“I'm your brother. You should have told me.” Rhett glared, daring Christian to defy him. “Our code is based on trust. If you can't trust me, trust us, then who? We could have figured a way out.”
“It was too late by then. They stepped in with their blackmail and their threats. And it wasn't just my son.” Christian looked at his father and Dracht in the eyes. “It was all of you. They would have picked you off one by one until you were all gone. I had a choice—them, or you. I chose them temporarily, with the full intent of disclosure after I'd regained my son.”
Evelyn knew that if the brothers couldn't come to an agreement, if they couldn't find solid ground, Ashrael wouldn't entrust the status of Guardian to them. If Christian even wanted it. She couldn't be sure. His having a son might change everything.
“And you can see how well that worked out for you,” Rhett said, clipping the words out. Exhaling, he thrust a hand through his golden hair. “Look. We disagree about it. What's done is done though and there's nothing we can do to change it. His life is still in danger. There are other things that need our pressing attention.”
Christian relented, backing down from his anger. “You're right.”
Ashrael cut into the conversation, making eye contact with each Templar. “Rhett has spoken for each of you, but I will hear your agreements for myself. He has decided to devote his life to becoming a Guardian of the Daughters of Eve. This means, should you all succeed in your mission, that I will allow him to eat from the Tree of Life. He will become as the women here, immortal, capable of quicker healing.”
A surprised noise rippled through the men, barring Rhett, who had heard it already.
Ashrael held up his hand for silence. “I am extending the same to each of you. Dragar, Dracht and Christian. Think hard, gentleman, for it will change everything. The people you know and love will eventually die and there won't be anything you can do to stop it. Living indefinitely has its perks—and it has its downfalls. As the official Guardians, you will be expected to uphold your duties, put your life on the line for their own. All the vows you took to become Templars apply here. The same codes of conduct, civility, and moral obligation.”
“What mission?” Dracht asked.
“When Minna broke the first minor seal, the power of it called forth the Servants of the Fallen and the Fallen themselves. They have waited a very long time to provoke a war with the Guardians—us—and will not be easily deterred. Once Minna, Evelyn and Rhett left the Dead Sea they stole the Book of Seals and separated them all. The remaining Seals now reside in hidden locations all around the world, waiting to be broken. I myself cannot retrieve them. That's where you gentlemen come in. Your task will be to bring the Seals back to me. If you do not succeed, if you are too late, the fate of each Seal will have it's affect upon the world and there will be no stopping Armageddon if they break the final Seal in the set.”
The strange hush that fell over the group seemed at such odds to Evelyn with the bright, happy day that surrounded them. Birds trilled, leaves rustled and the sweet smell of grass tempted her to lie down in it and rest.
At the same time, Ashrael was telling them they had to go out and face the Fallen, some of the fiercest, most deadly warriors besides the Guardians ever to walk the Earth.
The men, all four of them, looked contemplative. Rhett had already made his decision but that didn't mean he wasn't thinking over all the implications and options one more time.
“What are the odds of us retrieving the Seals?” Dragar asked.
“Very slim. Once you get past the Servants, the Fallen will be difficult to defeat. They are as powerful as the Guardians and have a wicked repertoire of skills that stretch into the supernatural. The good news is that there should be only one Fallen guarding each Seal. If you defeat the Servants, you will have to face him.”
“I don't understand. This is your war. Why aren't you out there fighting it?” Christian asked, frowning.
“It is not our war until, and if, the final Seal is broken. The armies cannot descend before then. If we were to go fight the Fallen now, before the last events are set into motion, thousands of innocent humans will die. The Fallen understand our hands are tied and are gathering and amassing their own army. They will not be expecting us to send mortal men in our stead. This is part of your advantage.”
“What's the other part?” Rhett asked.
Ashrael turned to the four swords stuck in the ground and wrapped his hand around a hilt. Pulling it free, he held it so the blade pointed straight up. Sunlight gleamed off the polished steel.
“This. These are no regular swords. If you accept your role, your mission, these will be your methods of destruction. It can be no other way. The Fallen are not easily killed—this will make your task easier.”
“If we can get that close to begin with,” Dragar said, eyeing the swords with renewed interest.
“Rhett defeated a Servant—alone. You will be going in a group, which is why your trust in each other must be impeccable and complete. All your training, your years of fighting, battle and expertise will be put to the ultimate test. You will need to be clever, sharp, cunning, quick and deadly,” Ashrael said, lowering the blade to his side. “There are shields to go with the swords, and armor.”
“What kind of skills are we talking about?” Dragar asked.
“The Servants do not have the same power as the Fallen. They are big, and strong, and have more skill than your average warrior. As you can see by Rhett's example, they are not infallible. The Fallen can command lightning, their strikes will have the force of ten men, they are swift when they choose to be—and in this I mean they can move almost faster than the eye can follow—and they, like us, possess the capability to become invisible. That does not mean they are gone, however. Understand the difference. If you know where they are, and you strike with your sword, you will obtain a direct hit as if he was visible and breathing before you. They can also conjure beasts unlike any that currently walk the earth. Be wary of that.”
“How many direct hits does it take to kill them?” Christian asked next.
>
“A killing blow. Stabbing at a shoulder will do no good, even if you make it between their armor. It will help begin to incapacitate them, but you need a fatal action to kill them.” Ashrael swung the blade around in a languid circle, the steel whistling through the air.
Dragar watched the blade.
Christian stared at the ground, frowning.
Dracht stared at the sky, tonguing his teeth.
Rhett paced a small circle, face thoughtful.
“What about poisons, explosions--”
“They are immune to poisons. These swords are what will deliver lethal injury. And it would have to be quite an explosion, above or directly below them, to be effective. Ramming with cars, even tanks will not stop them. You're going to have to get in close.”
Evelyn thought it sounded impossible. Yet she could see Rhett and the others trying to work out possible plots and plans in their minds. The more she heard, the more uneasy she felt.
“I should go to the Tree of Life and get the fruit now, so it has time to take full effect,” she said. They didn't need to waste time later going to get it.
“They won't be allowed access, Evelyn, until they return,” Ashrael said.
“What? Why not?” She whirled on Ashrael.
“Because that is part of the goal. To obtain it, they have to earn it.”
“I think they have earned it,” she said, indignant.
“This is not given lightly, you know that. They could eat the fruit and obtain immortal status and decide once they are past the gate that they don't need to bother.”
“They aren't doing it just for the fruit,” she argued.
“Perhaps not.” His tone suggested it didn't matter.
“You're giving them every other advantage you can. It seems reasonable this should be granted, especially with what they're going up against.”
“I agree with Ev. I think you should let 'em, Ashrael,” Alexandra chimed in.
“Admirable, girls. I understand your positions. They will not have access until the mission is complete.”
“Is there anything else we should know?” Rhett asked, still pacing. He did not seem put off by not having the fruit before they left.
“Yes. It is not just the girls you will be Guardians over. You will be the new protectors of the Seals. Right up until the day I come for them—if you avert a full scale apocalypse now.”
“This has the feeling of being planned to me,” Dracht finally said, pinning Ashrael with a dark eyed look. “What are the odds that we, Templars, would be called up for this particular duty, one that requires great skill with swords, men who were born and bred under a code of honor unlike any other? And now to safeguard one of the most deadly secrets on earth—if we can manage to collect them from our adversary.”
“Do you mean to ask if this is destiny?” Ashrael inquired.
All eyes swung to Dracht.
“I suppose that's what I'm asking,” he said.
“Then your answer is yes.”
***
Evelyn stood with Minna while Alexandra slept at their feet. Her exhausted sibling had to have rest before anyone went anywhere.
Across the grass, she watched Rhett with his brothers and father. They had been in animated conversation for a half an hour. She didn't know if they were deciding their answer or making plans for war. Rhett's mind was made, she knew, but he couldn't get all the Seals by himself. It was an impossible task for just one man.
Ashrael had brought them all clothing for their journey and Evelyn ran her palm down the strange material along her arms. The long sleeved shirt had miniscule scales built in, so small that she couldn't see them unless she brought it right up to her nose to investigate. When she ran her palm the wrong way it chafed and tore at her skin. She didn't need to be told it was armor of some kind, a protective barrier that allowed her full range of motion without being restricted. The color of sand, it matched the pants that fit snug on her hips and thighs, tapering down into boots that felt comfortable, almost too comfortable, from the first moment she slipped her foot in.
Minna and Alexandra both wore the same.
The armor that awaited the men sat near the swords and the shields. Brown with gold trim, the sections were divided up to protect different body parts. Torso, thighs, forearms, shins. The craftsmanship was supreme, with arcane carvings circling the Templar's iron cross on the chest. Shields that matched the armor sported the Templar cross in the center.
Evelyn wanted to believe the runes and symbols decorating the armament was extra protection for the men. And the more she observed the armor and their clothing, the more Dracht's words rang in her ears.
Destiny.
Was it? Was it hers, or the Templars? Both? It caused her to question her entire existence, something she'd never done before this moment. Not quite this way. Ashrael knew things, things most humans did not. He would have known about the hunting, the murders, her capture in Athens.
He'd told her before that he was not allowed to step in to save them, that fate had to run its course. It was all part of the decline of man, or the power hungry, greedy factions that existed alongside the good and the righteous.
But she still wondered.
She knew that from the moment the fruit had been consumed in the Garden, that man was doomed. While advancing through time, humanity hurtled toward its own demise. Uncounted millions believed some cataclysmic event would take place, scrub the Earth of the sinful and wicked, perhaps giving the survivors a fresh start.
She glanced at the pylons and the tall doorway leading out of Eden. Was this the cataclysmic event? Were they about to attempt to prevent it? Maybe this was a last chance for man, a final bid to prove their worth. The Sagan men had risked their lives to protect her and her sisters, were now standing there debating saving the world. Four mortals about to embark on the greatest quest of all time.
Evelyn wondered if it really was their destiny to be here, if they'd been born to be in this time, this place, to sacrifice everything.
The circle broke apart, and she watched them approach Ashrael. Evelyn held her breath. Against the backdrop of the East Gate, with pristine Eden stretching beyond, the four Templars exchanged words with the Guardian.
Ashrael smiled in a knowing way and inclined his head.
Instead of shaking their hands and booming congratulations, he yanked the swords out of the ground and presented one to each man. Rhett, Dragar, Dracht and Christian. There were no whoops of triumph or celebration, no wild grins or boasting.
Rhett gave the sword a once over, testing the weight in his hand—then snapped a look right at her.
Purpose lurked there. Sober determination. Comprehension that this task must be done to secure any kind of future—for humanity, for them.
She mouthed, I love you.
He mouthed back. I love you, too.
The End.
. . .
The Seven Seals
Chapter One
The girl who hated confrontation, who loathed violence and fighting, prepared to go to war.
It was really mind over matter, she told herself, a determination to overcome the knee shaking, gut wrenching, breath stealing fear that crept through her body like a disease every time she faced it. Observing others engaged in battle was bad enough; squaring off with an adversary personally took it to a whole new level.
Less than three hours ago, she had watched Rhett take on a Servant of the Fallen. An offspring of those cast down, a half breed whose blood sang with the symphony of immortality. Rhett defeated the Servant while she'd stood aside, hands over her mouth, struck with horror, incapable of moving. The odds of a mortal, human man besting a Servant with just a sword and his honor were incredible. Yet Rhett had come away the victor, covered in blood, grim faced and impossibly calm.
He had not gloated, looked smug, or cheered the triumph. Every inch a Templar warrior, she could see him filing away the lessons he'd learned, the close calls that had almost cost him his life. Rh
ett took something of value away from every fight to apply to the next one.
If she planned on living long enough to have some kind of life with Rhett in the aftermath of all this, she needed to overcome her fears. It wasn't that she hadn't risen to the occasion when it counted, but she knew she could do better. Could be better.
Mind over matter.
At least long enough to collect the Seals the Fallen had stolen.
Evelyn Grant studied the faces of those preparing to go to battle around her: Rhett, Dracht and Christian, all brothers, all belonging to the Order of the Knights Templar, wore studious masks of intensity while they donned their armor. Golden, from his hair to his skin, eyes a pale green, Rhett stood next to his brethren, tugging on a bracer with quick yanks. Dracht, darker than Rhett, was an inch taller, a little broader and somewhat roguish when he wasn't facing down the end of the world. They both wore their hair long as opposed to Christian who styled his shorter with one shank always falling over his eyes. Christian could have passed for a door-to-door salesman if he wasn't so tall, broad and possessing that certain aggressiveness that all the brother's shared.
Their father, Dragar, resembled an older version of Dracht. He kept his hair tied back at the nape, a tinge of silver at the temples, his face only lined at the corners of his dark, dark eyes and around the edges of his mouth. He was less prone to laughter, more sober and serious, as if his position as the leader of the Knights required a businesslike demeanor.
Distressed brown leather, edged with gold, forged by immortal hands, made up the armor the Templars put on one piece at a time. Ancient carvings decorated the surface, adding texture and possibly extra protection. The armor looked wicked, with tapered scallops off the shoulder and along the thighs. Emblazoned on the breastplate was the iron cross each man of the Order had tattooed between his shoulder blades.
The Knights became more warrior-like in Evelyn's mind; fierce, resilient, cunning, willing to do whatever it took to complete their mission. These were men used to war, if not wholly comfortable with it.
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